Amdir's Tale
by Fallyn Irlandes
Summary: In Sindarin, amdir and estel both mean hope, but amdir is "an expectation of good, with some foundation in what is known". For Amdir the Ranger, this hope may not be enough to survive.
1. Chapter 1

_Because I found myself strangely attracted to the guy and his story was so tragic I had to write it. I had to fix it, actually, as the man has a reputation along with his kinsmen of the most foolish of all the Rangers. So here's piecing together the original intro/prologue (that I never played but was able to find enough to write up) without Strider because it makes more sense, though I love the contrast between Amdir and Estel._

* * *

Amdir slipped around a tree, silent as the shadows which covered the forest in a swirling pattern of changing light. He wove through the wood with apparent ease, his dark green cloak melding with the colors around him.

A wolf howled off to the south and he hesitated before continuing on his way, east. No one came through these paths anymore; the road had fallen into disrepair and the forest was full of danger.

The path split ahead and he knelt at the fork, searching the ground for the marks he had been trained to find. The hoof prints he had been following continued east. The north path seemed to have been traveled recently, by men on foot.

Wavering between the two, Amdir eventually continued east. The path wandered through the forest before easing out into an open valley. He surveyed it, a sorrowful expression settling onto his face. _Once this was the tomb of great kings. Now it is the haunt of lost shades. _He shook himself and made his way through the barrow-downs, careful not to disturb any of the barrows.

He emerged on the eastern side just before noon. He ate a quick, cold meal and continued on his eastward journey, avoiding the new presence of the brigands and orcs and made his way through the south Chetwood. The nearby marshes made the air heavy and humid. Ost Baranor seemed desolate, and teeming with an evil presence.

Were he not on another errand, he would look there to see what had taken over the old ruins.

As it was, he continued on the edge of marshes, continually finding proof of the presence of the Blackwolds. But he could not find what he needed to find. He didn't know where they made their home.

He needed someone who knew this area.

Someone he knew.

Amdir turned north and picked up his pace, heading along the road through Staddle and Combe until he came to Archet. He moved through the trees across the way to the old hunting lodge.

There was a familiar face by the door, one which looked up and smiled. "Amdir! What brings you here?"

He tried to smile back. "It is a good thing to see a friendly face, Nate Whisperwood. As you may know, the brigands have grown bolder, and I fear what they may be planning. I must speak with Jon Brackenbrook."

Nate's grin slipped. "Aye, he is here." His voice made it sound as though that was not a good thing.

"What troubles you?"

"Not I, but the Captain's son." Nate glanced inside before saying in a much lower voice, "he's been banished from Archet for speaking against one of the Captain's men. Dark scoundrel by the name of Calder Cobb. None of us like the look of him, but Captain Brackenbrook won't take any word said against his favorite."

Amdir shook his head once. "It is not a good thing the Captain does, I fear. But this matter must wait, I believe. Jon sent for me?"

Nate's face cleared. "Yes, that he did. Them Blackwolds seem to be up to something." He nodded at the door. "I'm glad you're here."

Amdir nodded his thanks back at the Man and slipped through the door. Someone was cooking venison. His mouth watered at the smell of the hot food.

"Who is that?" a voice called from the end of the house.

"It is I, Amdir the Ranger."

"Amdir?" A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into view. "Why, come, come! I have much to tell you."

"It is good to see you, Jon." The Ranger sat down at the seat offered him, nodding at a nearby hunter. "I am afraid I must impose myself on your hospitality by requesting the use of your fire."

Jon grinned. "We've got hot food you can have, you know. You don't need to use your own."

Amdir smiled back gratefully. "Thank you." He accepted the large plate and dug in. "You said you had much to tell me?"

Jon's smile faded. "Aye, and it is not good. The Blackwolds have infiltrated the dale itself, making their camp in the ruins to the south. But more than that, they have set up a base in the north Chetwood."

"Where?"

"If you follow the road that leads east from Combe, after it forks you take the left trail and follow it to the ruins along the mountains that ring the dale." Jon shook his head, mouth twisting in distaste. "My father banished me for trying to tell him one of his men were working with these brigands."

The young Ranger clapped a hand on his arm. "I am sorry, my friend. He is not entirely without reason, so our cause is not lost yet."

Jon shook his head. "Not lost, not yet, but close." He sighed. "But adding to my woes, my men discovered that they have taken two hobbits captive."

Amdir froze and set down the plate. "Two hobbits?" he repeated. Strider's words echoed in his mind. _The Shire, especially the family of Baggins, are to be given the utmost protection. _"Who are they, do you know? And when were they captured?"

"Just last night. The Blackwolds brought them all the way from the Shire to their camp in the wood. As to their names, I believe they were Baggins and Brandybuck."

Amdir's face drained of color. "You are sure?"

"Yes. Why does this concern you so?"

Amdir slowly stood. "I—I must get to them. I must know what the Blackwolds are planning, and now it appears I must free two of the halflings."

"Will you take anyone with you?" Jon offered, standing as well.

"No, my dear friend. You must retain all the help here that you can, as you have your own troubles." The Ranger flashed a grin. "Aside from which, I require no help freeing two halflings from a camp."

Jon smiled back. "No, I don't suppose you do." His expression grew serious. "Take care of yourself, Amdir. There is an evil stirring in the wood that I do not like."

* * *

_So what do you think? I've got most of this planned out; how did you like it?_

_And here's the link to the thing where I found the difference between amdir and estel - . _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I'm soooo glad there are actually people who liked this story! This chapter will be based on the Man intro, the old one without Strider that I didn't play but managed to piece together. Also, after knowing a bit more about amdir and estel I'm trying to add little references to the amdir kind of hope as I understand it-'well we can win because we have greater numbers' which would of course lead to despair if you didn't, as opposed to the estel kind of hope as I understand it-'we can win because we will' Without further ado, chapter 2!_

* * *

_I could wish for the light of Ithil._

The thought was as useless as wishing for Anor to suddenly rise. The moon's light was hidden this night, and the sun would not appear for many hours yet. This was a night for the deeds of evil creatures.

Amdir tried to shake off his premonitions and focused on watching the Blackwold camp instead. The road in front was nearly filled with the cold-hearted brigands. He would have to observe them closely, to determine the most opportune—

"Intruder!"

The cry of alarm burst through the camp and instantly it came alive, the Blackwolds running toward the source of the cry. "Intruder, to the west!"

Amdir knew it was not he they had discovered, and wondered who it could be. There was a cry and the sound of many running footsteps, and a Man came running around the bend, face pale and eyes wild. Amdir frowned at him. What was he doing here? At such a time as this? He saw the Blackwolds swarming towards the Man and realized this would be the perfect time to get in the prison, while they were all distracted. The Man had no weapons that he could see, and would soon be overrun. But he had noticed by now that the Blackwolds would not kill him, not without checking with their superiors.

He slid out of his hiding place and darted from tree to tree, making his way to the camp. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Blackwold strike at the Man and winced at the harshness of the blow as the Man collapsed.

"Take him to the open cell by the guardhouse!" a lieutenant commanded.

Amdir slipped through the chaos and waited in the shadows, watching. The Man was flung into the cell specified, the door locked, and a rather young lackey put in charge of guarding the door. The noise quieted down and the Ranger stole through the small alleyways. He could hear a female voice, young and distressed, though it was drowned out by the Blackwold's laughter. _This way._ He hid in the shadows as the voice became recognizable. "I am Celandine Brandybuck, and you don't scare me!" He could see a hobbit-lass glaring staunchly at her captors. "Now where is Mundo?"

_Mundo?_

Celandine muttered, "A Sackville-Baggins should never be held by you lot."

The Black Riders had taken the wrong Baggins.

Time was running short.

Amdir darted from shadow to shadow, back to the cell the man had been trapped in. The fence was easy enough to scale, even with the lackey right there. He dropped into the cell and hid in the shadows. The Man was lying motionless.

Amdir began to worry he would not awaken soon enough, and just as he was about to risk crossing the open area, the Man stirred. Amdir breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, you are awake," he whispered. "Come here."

The Man blinked at him but nonetheless stood and walked over. "I am Dale," he whispered. "Who are you?"

Amdir quickly gave him an explanation and instructed him to wait for the right moment. Abruptly, his head snapped up and he said, "Quiet! Someone is coming!"

A tall man, one whose appearance seemed different, strode into view. He almost seemed—was he of Angmar? A harsh voice ordered, "Wake up, you fool!"

The young fool in question shot upright, stammering an apology and naming the man as Eogan.

The Angmarian brushed him off with a wave of his hand. "The Nazgul is coming for the Baggins Cob brought us! Before he arrives, we must dispose of Dale and that hobbit-girl. The others are dealing with the hobbit. You take care of Dale."

Eager to have a job to do to redeem himself, the lackey nodded, "Yes, sir!"

Amdir's heart sank. The Nazgul were coming here? What hope had he against them? Even one of their number would be far too strong for him…

Eogan left and Amdir prepared himself. The young guard came over and opened the door. "Guess your time ran out, Dale," he said.

Amdir nodded at Dale and yelled, "Now!" as he rushed him. He easily cut down the surprised Blackwold, though he felt sorrow that evil had corrupted this young man. He was hardly that. Amdir shook himself and pulled a small knife from his boot.

"Here, you will need this."

Dale took the knife and looked vaguely confused at the craftmanship, which gave his rescuer hope that he knew at least a little about knives and daggers.

Amdir told him hurriedly, "While you see about freeing the hobbits, Celandine Brandybuck and Mundo Sackville-Baggins, I will follow that Eogan fellow and see what I can learn of his plans with the black Rider. Free Celandine first, for she is in the greatest danger. When you have both hobbits safe, seek me near the main gate."

Dale nodded, hand firm about the dagger and shoulders back.

Amdir was grateful he had found a man with a warrior's heart to aid him. He had not the resources to both free the hobbits and determine Eogan's plans. He crossed a short open area and opened a gate. "You should find Celandine that way. Find me after you have saved her!" Dale stood tall and moved forward, eyes searching for potential enemies.

Amdir relaxed about the hobbits and headed off in the direction Eogan had gone, into one of the buildings. The door was silent. _Thank the Valar, _he thought.

Even better, he could hear the Angmarian's harsh voice ahead. "Edric, you see to the hobbit. The Baggins are known to be a tricky lot. I must begin my own travels, for I have much to do."

A new voice said, "Yes, sir. The power of Angmar is with us."

Amdir caught his breath. Could it be? This was not good news. He edged through the building and caught a glimpse of the man Edric exiting after Eogan. He heard a muffled thump on the roof and could have sworn he heard fire crackling and the triumphant clapping of hands.

He allowed himself a small smile as he slipped out after Eogan. The Brandybucks were a hardy bunch, to be sure. What's more, one of the only things the cursed kings feared was fire.

"Fire!" a voice shouted, and there was running footsteps. Amdir saw Eogan's dark red robe disappear around a corner and put on more speed, trying to catch up with him. A door was swinging closed and he slipped through before it did so.

Then he heard a sound like shrieking wind and the worst of the haunted kings of the barrow-downs, and dread struck into his heart. _Nazgul. _Amdir quickly struck a torch into flame as the Black Rider rode into view. _They fear fire, _he repeated to himself, hoping against hope it would be enough. He drew his sword as well and swung both at the Nazgul. "Back! Go back to the shadow, fallen King!" he shouted.

The Nazgul turned his horse to him. "Fool!" it said in the whispering shout that struck terror into even the most hardy of men. "Your kingdom is dead! You have no power over me!" It rode closer and he desperately swung the torch at it. The Nazgul drew a long dagger and Amdir readied himself. He could fight, he could. Then the Nazgul continued, "But soon, I shall have power over you!" The certainty with which he said it crushed the hope the young Ranger had of escaping unscathed. The Nazgul struck with his sword and Amdir parried the blow, but then the dagger flashed in the night and drove into his shoulder.

Pain exploded through his shoulder and he could feel the fell power of the blade coursing through him. He cried out and crumbled to the ground. He managed to pull it out and though he was relieved to be rid of the cold Morgul, the pain and lingering dread nearly incapacitated him.

_What hope is there of surviving such a blow?_

He was dimly aware of Celandine crying out, and the Black Rider's attention turning to her. The flames began to spread as the Nazgul hissed, "Which is the 'Baggins' promised me?"

Amdir tried to lift himself up and turn, but managed only to turn enough to see Dale standing on the other side of the gate, along with Celandine and Mundo. All were cowering in fear.

The fire spread, though, the warmth bringing a small amount of hope to Amdir's soul. The Nazgul whisper-hissed, "Accursed flames! This Dunadan will suffice for my night's work." Amdir didn't like the sound of that. "May you all burn," the Nazgul growled as it galloped away.

The cold presence left and he became aware enough to see Celandine open the door and all three running toward him. Dale knelt beside him and he attempted a smile. "You…you found them. You rescued the hobbits." He winced and clutched at his shoulder. "Do not…concern yourself with me; the greatest danger…has passed." As he took in Celandine's horrified face he attempted to soothe her. "The Nazgul fear those who wield fire…" A fresh wave of pain came over him and he slumped to the ground.

He could hear Celandine gasping over him. "We need to take him to someone who knows what to do!"

Jon Brackenbrook's face flashed in his mind and he valiantly stirred himself enough to mumble, "Archet. Brackenbrook."

Dale's eyes hardened with determination. "I know where that is. What do you want me to tell this Brackenbrook?"

Amdir willed the pain to lessen. He had to complete this task, though it may be his last. "He must be…warned."

"Warned of what?" Mundo asked.

Amdir pushed himself up on his sword. "I will take you there."

"You can hardly stand!" Celandine exclaimed, mothering over him.

"I will." Amdir saw a long staff. "Dale, please bring me that staff."

The Man retrieved it immediately and he leaned on it. He set his gaze toward the northwest, toward Archet. "I will," he repeated, and walked forward.

To his death or worse, he knew not.

* * *

_A/N: I decided to name the player character Dale because it was the first thing that came to my head, and I decided to include him because Amdir needed to be weak enough to need him. (This may be most of why I think the original intro makes more sense, though the contrast between amdir and estel is of course brilliant and I keep repeating it; sorry) And I'll try to do regular updates; I've got most of the story figured out and I just need to finish it. Thanks again to those who favorited and especially reviewed! I never knew til I put something on here why those are so valued. THANK YOU._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: beg pardon for how late this is. Three weeks late? So sorry. I have a few excuses, but the main one is procrastinating, because of the lesser excuse of trying to figure out which way to make the story run, and how close to the game to stick, because games are not necessarily the best material. (Slayer quests, gathering quests, etc.) This is a story, and it should be cohesive. But then it occurred to me that Dale would need to begin exercising his adventurer muscles right away. Amdir, falling into shadow, would at the very least point him towards the veteran soldiers, the trainers, yes? So I ended up following the Intro rather closely._

* * *

Amdir walked into town, appearing much stronger than he actually felt. He could sense Celandine's eyes on him, worrying, and kept up a brave face for her. "Dale, my friend, please take Mundo and Celandine to the town center to purchase provisions. I must speak with Captain Brackenbrook."

Dale nodded and moved off.

Amdir took a few breaths and made his way through the small village to the Mad Badger Inn. As he opened the door the conversation went dead and he felt the harsh stares of all the occupants turn toward him. The whispers started, and he winced at the distrust in them.

The captain was ahead, seated at one of the tables, and watching him with a wary eye. He did not know the Ranger, and like the others he did not trust him.

Needless to say, the captain did not believe his favorite member of the garrison, Calder Cob, was involved with the brigands.

The air in the inn was stifling, and he left, slumping outside the door against the side of the building. The knife wound hurt.

What could he do if the captain did not believe him? He watched the townspeople pass by and knew many of them would die, even if they managed to convince the captain.

A kind-looking woman hesitated on her way, and he managed a whispered request that she send Dale to him.

Then he waited.

Soon enough, Dale and the hobbits came back. The two hobbits settled on the grass across the street, while Dale crossed over to him. "What is it?"

Amdir asked him to speak to the captain, as maybe Brackenbrook would trust him. Dale nodded. "Do you want any of the food?" he asked.

He shook his head. "No, this is more urgent." The truth was, he knew he would not be able to stomach it and he feared the effect on his body if it rejected something so simple as hard biscuits. Dale left and he massaged his wound.

A knife wound should not hurt so much, not even a wound from a morgul blade.

Should it?

He caught Celandine's attention and asked her to find some athelas—kingsfoil, he clarified—hoping against hope that it would help. She nodded and left, but he noticed that she came back soon, her steps more hesitant and her breathing heavier.

The wolves.

Amdir kept himself from moving, hoping to slow the poison that way.

Dale returned with ill news. Captain Brackenbrook would not accept him either, in fact, telling him to tell the Ranger to keep out of Archet's troubles. "He said if I truly wanted to help, I could slay the wolves that have been bothering the sheep," Dale said, shaking his head.

Amdir breathed in. "If wolves are truly threatening the sheep, we should do what we can to assist the people here." His eyes found the trainers near the town entrance. "You should speak with the trainers there, and return to me once you have grown your skills."

Dale looked down at the knife he wore and nodded.

The Ranger watched him as he trained, and he began to grow more hopeful. The man was skilled. Soon enough, he would be a valuable asset to the town, perhaps even to Middle-earth itself.

Dale came back, stepping with new confidence.

"It appears you are prepared for battle, Dale," Amdir complimented him. "You should make your way to the sheep farm south and west out of Archet's gate. Seek Dirk Mudbrick and tell him that you are there to assist him at the behest of Captain Brackenbrook." His eyes flickered past the young warrior to Celandine. "Also, if you have not spoken to her yet, Celandine Brandybuck could use your help. I have asked her to help me treat my wound as if it were poisoned and will need athelast, or "kingsfoil" as it is commonly known. Might I ask that you help her in this as well?"

Dale nodded. "Of course." He spoke briefly with Celandine, then trotted off toward the sheep farm.

Amdir shifted positions and hissed as the movement sent pain shooting from his shoulder down his arm and into his chest. _I need a healer. _He hadn't seen any, of course, but his eyes hadn't exactly been working at their full potential.

Grunting, he pushed himself up on the staff he'd taken from the Blackwolds and staggered into the courtyard. A gentle female voice filtered into his mind and he looked up to see the kind woman he had noticed earlier. "Are there any healers in Archet?" he asked, doing his best not to clench his teeth as he spoke.

She shook her head regretfully. "No, not here. We live peaceably here; we have for a while."

"I see." Amdir tightened his grip on the staff and returned to his spot at the Mad Badger wall.

He sank against the wall just as Dale hurried in with the athelas. Amdir smiled his thanks as Dale ran off again, back to Dirk Mudbrick. He crushed the athelas and pushed it into his wound, hissing at the contact.

Then he again kept his body still, slowing the advance of the poison that he was now sure existed. His eyes began to unfocus and he began to find breathing harder. Shapes darted past him; he was nearly certain he saw Dale and Dirk bringing Calder Cob through the gate and into the jail, and he wondered if he was beginning to hallucinate.

He needed a healer. He needed his kinsmen. Where were they? Why weren't they here? He wanted them.

A shadow fell across his sight and he looked up to see the tortured face of the Captain above him. "I—I have been a fool, Ranger," Brackenbrook whispered. "You were right; Calder Cob was a traitor."

"It is no good to focus on the past, you must instead focus on the present." Amdir's eyes found the trainers and then the captain's face again. "You must begin to prepare the garrison. These people must be kept safe. Defended."

Captain Brackenbrook nodded. "Yes." He frowned. "You are very unwell, Ranger."

"I have been stung by a morgul blade, Captain. It is an evil thing."

The older man narrowed his eyes. "Yet you came here still?"

Amdir was confused, his mind sluggish. "Of course. Your people needed to be warned."

The captain caught his breath. "I have been so blind. Your determination is inspiring in such times as these." He seemed to notice the surroundings for the first time. "Come, I will get you to a bed where you may rest better."

"There is no need; the fresh air does me good."

"I can see the pain in your eyes. You will receive the best bed in the inn, a room with a wide open window."

Amdir tried flexing his right hand, the wounded shoulder hand, and found it to be stiff and lacking in its usual dexterity. Which was an interesting phenomenon, since his vision was making it swim and seem bent completely out of shape. "Thank you, Captain," he said thickly.

"It is my honor, and my duty, to thank you for the aid you have given Archet." Captain Brackenbrook helped him to his feet and guided him through the inn and into a room with a nice soft bed.

"Your friend Dale is proving to be a great help," the captain said as he left.

"Good…" Amdir whispered as darkness took him.

* * *

_A/N: now that I've decided how to progress the story, I should upload more often. If you (or I...) want to see things go other than they did in the game, I'll write...a fix-it? for my own story? *shrug* I might. After a while. But I'll upload this more often. Giving myself a deadline...shall we say Tuesdays and Fridays? There should be about seven chapters total._

_Thank you all again for following/reviewing this story! Any critique at all is very welcome; tell me how I can make it better._

_Namarie!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Because reasons, I have changed Toradan to be Amdir's physical brother, not just a brother-in-arms that he seems to be in the Prologue. And...well I'm on time! Apparently deadlines are a good thing. As always, let me know what you think and how I can improve!_

* * *

Amdir's dreams were dark. Whispers and nameless fears constantly swirled around, but he could not see them. Could not see anything. Everything was black; no light found its way into the dark halls he roamed. Occasionally he thought he saw something, and only because there was a deeper black, a thicker shadow.

A shadow which seemed familiar and made his shoulder grow cold.

He tried to hide away from the shadow, reaching out for light—any light. He thought he heard a gentle voice singing, but so distantly he couldn't make out the words nor even the melody. He just knew that someone was singing. Somewhere.

The shadow thickened, grew angry. Towered over him. Mist—how could he tell it was mist, if he couldn't see any of this?—began wrapping itself around him.

He stretched out for the singing voice, but it faded. Whispers took its place, whispers of terrible things. The mists and the shadows and the darkness enveloped him. He could not move, he could not see.

He was alone.

No, he couldn't be. Even when he wandered in the wild, he was always close to his brother, to his kin.

His kin.

Where were they?

Why had they abandoned him?

No, that wasn't right, he thought. It—

The darkness snapped at his shoulder, cold breath freezing his blood.

_They abandoned you. The Dunedain are false. Abandon them. Turn to us._

No…

He wanted his brother.

Needed him.

He opened his mouth to call his name and forgot it. Shadows squeezed him, growing ever thicker.

"Amdir."

The shadows hissed at the dark gray light that slipped in this shapeless hall of thought. For his part, he blinked at it. Had someone said his name? What was this—this not-black? It seemed white against the darkness.

"Amdir!"

The gray lightened; he thought he saw a dim yellow light mingled with it. That had definitely been his name. Who was calling it?

"Amdir, wake up!"

It was familiar, this voice.

Wait.

Wake up?

He was asleep?

But the hall had seemed so—solid. Real.

He blinked awake and the first thing he saw in the swimming chaos his vision had become was a shape bent over him. He started to draw back but the shape breathed three words.

"Thank the Valar."

He knew that voice. "Toradan?" he asked incredulously.

"It is I, brother," the voice affirmed. With the sound of his brother's voice, and the successive rush of memories, Amdir felt the shadows in his mind fade to mere slivers. The blurry form sharpened, just a little.

"Toradan," Amdir repeated, unable to express how grateful he was to see his brother.

"You are very unwell."

In spite of himself, Amdir smiled. He'd missed his older brother.

"Where is your athelas essence?"

"I gave it to someone who needed it more."

"Amdir," Toradan said exasperatedly. "Will you always give more than you have to others?"

Amdir shrugged. Winced as the movement jostled his shoulder.

"Here. I have mine." Toradan's blurred form moved toward him. He smelled the distinctive sweetness of the athelas and breathed in. His vision cleared and he could finally make out Toradan's features as he concentrated on his shoulder. "What on earth—who dressed this?"

"I did."

Toradan glanced at him. Worry he couldn't hide flashed behind that which he could. "I see." He gently and carefully dressed the wound.

Amdir breathed deeply and relaxed. He remembered the Captain bringing him here, and—

"Where is Jon? And his father, and Dale? Do they need any help?"

"Am—"

"How did you get past the Blackwolds?"

Toradan blinked. "Carefully." He sat back. "You are in no condition to help anyone, Amdir."

"Indeed," a voice they both knew said from the doorway. Jon Brackenbrook stepped inside, his brow furrowed in worry and care. "You look…" he trailed off and looked away.

"Be honest," Amdir said.

"You look worse. You're not going anywhere, and—" He glanced briefly at Toradan. "-I wish we could count on your help. They will attack soon."

"You know of their plans at least. It will be a surprise to them to find the town waiting for them."

"I fear it will not be a big enough surprise. And even if it were, they outnumber us." Jon clenched his fist. "Including the women and children."

Amdir looked at Toradan. He looked back. Nodded once.

"I will aid you," he decided. "If you will accept my help, of course," he amended.

"Of course!" Jon said excitedly.

"He means, 'if you will obey everything I say', Jon," Amdir translated helpfully.

Toradan frowned, then grinned. "More or less."

"Have you experience in this?"

_Fire sword shouts screams growls shrieks crashing orders war._

Amdir blinked away the memories of the battles he and his kindred had fought. If Jon only knew…

"I do," Toradan said simply.

"Then please, help us."

Toradan took a deep breath and let it out very slowly.

Amdir waited.

"I need to speak with your father."

Jon nodded.

Toradan rose but hesitated, glancing at Amdir. "Will you be all right?"

"Yes, go on."

"I do not think you should be alone."

"We don't have time for this, Toradan."

"Celandine was in here earlier," Jon interjected. "She is most concerned for you."

Amdir remembered the voice that sang in his dreams and wondered if it had been her.

Toradan cocked his head. "Hobbits do not usually trust us."

"Hobbits do not usually set the roofs of brigands on fire shortly after being freed from prison either," Amdir said with a smile.

"They are hardier than they look," Jon shrugged.

"I will return shortly," Toradan said. "Be sure to send for me if you need me."

"I will. Now go before they get here while you are still talking."

"Words win wars," Toradan muttered over his shoulder as he left.

Amdir grinned after him and his familiar mantra.

Jon looked between the two before following the older Ranger.

_Words win wars, _Amdir repeated, staring at the ceiling. He hummed an old poem until the two hobbits trotted into the room.

Mundo was stuffing his face with rolls and sausages and fruit. Truly, the sight was a marvel for he carried so much food but didn't drop any of it. Celandine followed, bringing a tray with bread and fruit. "Amdir!" she exclaimed.

Amdir smiled, a full real smile, at them. This was why the Rangers did what they did. He was fortunate; some of his kin never saw a hobbit's smile.

"You look much better; I was in here earlier and you were pale as a sheet," Celandine continued. "Can you eat at all?"

Mundo mumbled something that was probably a compliment to the food.

Still smiling, Amdir was surprised to discover his stomach did not revolt at the thought of food. "I believe, Miss Brandybuck," he said, carefully raised himself up, putting no weight on his right arm, "I can."

"Oh, good. It's not healthy, you know," Celandine chattered as she brought the tray over, "not eating. You look thin. Have you been eating well? Before this, I mean."

"Yes," Amdir said. He took a bite of the roll to prove it.

She smiled, pleased. "See, Mundo? Didn't I tell you I could make him eat?"

"You did," Mundo said past his sausage.

"I did."

Amdir grinned. He did indeed feel far better.

* * *

_A/N: Thought I'd warn you all that, as you can see, I have changed canon quite a bit, and you can expect it to change even more._


	5. Chapter 5

"So she jumps over him to get to the pie, and falls flat on her face in the mud!"

All three laughed; Celandine looked pleased the story of her cousin was so well received by the Ranger and Mundo.

"But did she get the pie?" Mundo asked earnestly. Amdir suspected he had heard the story before and knew the answer, but asked anyway, the way children do.

Celandine nodded. "Oh, yes. She crawled out of the mud, wiped her hands on her apron—mind you, it was covered in mud itself—smiled prettily at the laughing hobbits, dove at the table, grabbed the pie and ran off with it."

Another round of laughter. Amdir only realized later he had completely forgotten his wound, that it had in fact stopped hurting for this short time. Listening to the hobbits tell stories of food and pipeweed, of family relations and friends and less-than-friends, of mathoms sent back and forth for decades, he could almost forget the growing Shadow.

But with a shout and the crash of the door and the sound of running footsteps outside the room, everything rushed back. Toradan and another Man Amdir didn't know dashed inside. Toradan crossed the room in one half-jumping stride. "They are coming, brother."

"So soon?"

"Yes." Toradan spoke quickly. "This is Will Pinewood; he will take care of you three." He felt Amdir's forehead, peered at his shoulder, and gave a quick smile. "You are better, good." He nodded at Celandine. "No small thanks to you, I am sure." Something passed across his face, some thought, but he hid it and took a breath. "I must go."

"Then go, brother," Amdir said. "When you get back we shall see if Miss Brandybuck will recount the tale of Lily Took and the Long Run." He grinned at Celandine, who smiled back, though hesitantly. She could sense the hum of battle in the air, he thought.

Toradan stood. "I look forward to it." He nodded at Will. "Look after him, Pinewood."

Will nodded in return. "I shall, as though he were my own brother." Toradan turned to go and he called after him, "Look after mine."

The Ranger straightened. "Your cousin will be as safe as I can make him," he promised and was gone.

Amdir surveyed Will. His dark hair, lively eyes, and something about his mouth seemed familiar. "Are you a relation of Nate Whisperwood?"

"Yes," Will said in surprise. "He's my cousin."

"He is safe then. When Toradan promises something, he will keep it. And I know of few stronger in blade."

Celandine and Mundo were absently devouring what remained of the food. Mundo took the last roll as Celandine began to reach for it. He looked from it to her and back again, then silently gave it to her. She smiled at him, split it in half, and gave him one. They smiled at each other, raised their rolls as though in a toast, and bit into them as one.

A smile flickered on Amdir's face. Sometimes the Halflings could be slow to understand, or mistrustful of those who guarded their safety to the point of rudeness, but sometimes courage deep within them sprung to the surface and all were surprised.

"I feel much better—" he started.

"You're to stay in bed or your brother will have my hide," Will replied promptly.

"I could at least have my bow by my side," Amdir tried.

"Yes, you could." Will laid it by the bed and resumed his post by the door.

Amdir briefly thought of not asking his next question, so as to not worry the hobbits, but one look at them convinced him they were already worried. And he knew his brother. "What defenses do we have?" The two hobbits instantly fixed their gazes on the young Man.

Will stood tall. "We have the garrison, twenty-three strong, stationed in the town, and Jon's hunters are hiding by the lodge. The town is shut securely, and Atli—the dwarf—is guarding the eastern pass with his kinsman Bali. The Captain, your friend Dale, and Toradan are heading the main forces. I believe Wil Wheatley and Cal Sprigley and their farmhands are waiting outside the town gates. The plan, as I understand it, is to meet the Blackwolds before they enter the town, and fight them there, beside Dirk Mudbrick's farm. The brigands will appear to overcome them and they'll retreat back to town, where the garrison will surprise them. They don't have that many." Will smiled. "Toradan is confident we can fight them off there, and herd them toward the lodge, where Jon's hunters will meet them. Then they'll chase them back to their roost and out of Archet Dale. They don't stand a chance."

Celandine and Mundo were smiling and Amdir relaxed. The plan was good, as far as he could see.

But…

They were missing something, he was almost certain of it. It wriggled in the back of his mind. He'd forgotten something, something important…

Shouts and the ring of swords broke his train of thought and he half-rose instinctively. The battle had arrived.

For a good ten minutes the four listened hard to the sounds outside, barely breathing. It seemed so long, and they could hardly tell what was going on. Occasionally Will would start as he heard a voice he recognized raised high in a battle cry. Five more minutes passed. The shouts and screams rose and began to fall. Will looked hopeful as they heard victorious shouts—ones he at least recognized. The Blackwolds shouted in fear and dismay. Their voices faded, presumably as they retreated from the town. Will smiled.

Amdir couldn't share his hope. He felt something, he was sure of it, the same whispering voices which had tortured his dreams, and his wound had begun to throb again. It flashed cold and he knew it wasn't just his imagination.

He could have sworn he heard a Dwarven curse and a scream cut short, followed by a cry of anger and sorrow. He knew that sound, had heard it often. Someone had just lost a brother in arms. And there were only two dwarves here…

"Did you hear that?" he murmured.

Will was listening intently. "I thought I heard something, a rough shout. What did you hear?"

"The same," Amdir answered quietly. "You said there was a dwarf here?"

"Yes, Atli Spider-bane and his cousin Bali."

_The eastern pass._

There was a running sound and Will held his sword at the ready as a Man came into view—Dale. Will relaxed. Dale's eyes, wide from battle and something else, found the young Ranger. "Amdir," he said breathlessly, "Toradan bids me bring you out."

"But—" Will began.

"And to do it quickly," Dale interrupted, catching Amdir's arm. "Can you rise?"

"If I must."

"You must." Dale looked across at the two hobbits. "Will, you are to stay with them, but bring them out. The inn must be emptied."

"Why?" Celandine said, rising.

"No time." Dale pulled Amdir up, looking concerned as the Ranger winced and grunted.

"Athelas," he bit out, grabbing the bottle.

"No time," Dale repeated. "Come on!"

Amdir stood with his help and took a step forward and would have collapsed if he hadn't held him up. "My staff—"

"Here," Mundo said, handing it to him.

Will picked up his bow and quiver and held it out. "Can you—"

Dale snatched them up and motioned to the door. "Don't wait for us, get them out, and quickly! The rest of the inn's residents are heading for Sprigley's farm. Go!"

_Why so urgent? _Amdir wondered. _What have you seen?_

Will looked between them and nodded. "Take care of him." He led the two hobbits out, nearly pulling Celandine as she looked back.

"Be safe!" she called. Then they were gone.

Dale and Amdir made slow progress. "I don't know what kind of wound you bear, but we must hurry," the Man urged.

"I'm trying." And he was. He was trying, desperately trying to ignore the voices and the cold and the pain and the stiffness—

And there was a shriek outside. Dale inhaled and pushed him forward.

"What is out there?" Amdir now suspected Dale knew.

And he probably did, for he didn't answer.

Amdir thought he knew.

He'd heard that shriek before, but stronger than this. This was a mockery, a—

And the whispering voices were back, familiar as if the hobbits had never chased them away.

_Come, Dunadan._

Amdir stiffened. "Cargul," he whispered.

* * *

_Dun dun dun! I have several ideas on how it can go from here, and a few characters from Bree-land you may or may not recognize...we'll see, shall we?_


	6. Chapter 6

_Black._

What little of Amdir's world was not black was gray, perhaps what could be called red, or so blurred as to make it impossible to tell. The moment he had realized what was out there, so near, so close, it was as if all the color had been sucked out. There was red, yes, but it was the sickly red that marked a Car—_their _robes and gave them their names.

_Don't think of their names, Amdir, don't, _he ordered himself.

He'd kept a hold on the real world, both by reminding himself that it existed and because a member of said real world was latched on to his arm and dragging him through it. He focused on him—Dale, his name was Dale. He'd been there before, had stood tall, he could be counted on, same as his brother.

Toradan.

Where was he?

He heard shouts and screams—the screams were mostly female…the women and children who'd been hiding, he remembered. Toradan had sent them away, to Cal Sprigley's farm. Yes. And Amdir was going—where was he going?

Where _was _he?

The world was blurred but he and Dale had exited the Mad Badger and went down the steps. They'd turned right…or was it left?

_Come on, think!_

Right. South. Away from the town center and his brother.

Amdir struggled against Dale. "Toradan!" he tried to say, but his mouth wouldn't work.

"Your brother will meet with us later," Dale said calmly. "Right now we need to get out of his way."

Dale was exuding such serentity it muted the pounding in his head and leached off a bit of the black, sharpening his vision. Just a little, but he noticed.

Then someone shouted.

"Father, no!"

He knew that voice—Jon Brackenbrook—and as Dale started in surprise they both turned instinctively towards it. Everything seemed to slow down. The world spun as he sought the direction the voice had came from. A flash of red stopped his search. He started to draw back but he'd already found the unmistakable sight of the Cargul. As he named them in his mind and looked at them they sharpened, leaving the rest of the world blurred.

One blur—Man shaped—dashed in front of the Cargul, distracting him from them just a bit.

They must have been distracted, possibly by whoever it was in front of them, for their previously unbroken chants in his head stopped.

The world cleared just a bit more.

He recognized the Man.

"Captain?" he mumbled.

Captain Brackenbrook was wildly swinging a sword at the two Cargul. "Go, Jon, go!" he ordered. "I'll hold them off!"

"You can't!" Jon shouted back. His voice was coming from Amdir's left, and he turned to see Toradan holding him back, trying to drag him away.

"We must go; he'll be fine!"

"I will not leave him!"

"Honor your father!" a new voice shouted, rough and deep. A stocky figure ran into view, wielding an axe. "Look after the townspeople, Jon!" A dwarf. Amdir struggled to remember his name. Atli, wasn't it?

As he charged the Cargul, they faltered in their attention to the Captain and he flicked one of their knives out of their unseen hands. It shrieked and swung at him with its sword.

He gasped and fell to his knees.

"Father!" Jon screamed. No one, not even Toradan, could have held him back. He drew his sword and it rang against the Cargul's.

Toradan hesitated for a moment and then nodded to himself. "Dale, you must get Amdir out!" he shouted loudly, running towards the Cargul.

Dale inhaled and turned. "No," Amdir mumbled, "must stay with Toradan—"

But the Cargul had heard and in the instant before Jon reached them one circled around Atli while he was busy with the other. It reached a hand towards Amdir and focused on him.

_Come, Dunadan. You are ours. Cease this resisting. Come to us. You are alone. You are weak. You cannot—_

The voice broke off with a ear-piercing shriek and as Amdir tried to compose himself he saw Toradan stumble back and a knife—a Morgul knife?—sticking out of the Cargul's chest.

"Atli, Jon, get the other knife!" Toradan shouted.

The Cargul screeched, staggering back. It began to fade, the invisible body becoming opaque.

The remaining Cargul screamed and attacked Atli, heading for Amdir.

Dale began pulling him back. "Come on," he whispered. "Toradan's using you as a distraction but it doesn't work if you're caught."

"Oh," Amdir muttered and worked on making his legs take him away from the Cargul and not toward them as they tried to follow the wraiths' will.

It was faltering, which made resisting it easier.

The Cargul with the knife in its chest fell to its knees and a face was visible for a brief moment before a burst of wind flew outwards, knocking everyone down.

Amdir heard words, or almost-words, in his head as the wind passed through him, chilling him. It was like he could feel what the now-dead Cargul felt. _Death pain black gray white bliss._

Once the wind had passed everyone could breathe easier. They felt lighter and the world seemed fairer.

But not entirely, for the danger was not over yet.

The remaining Cargul, in the moment when everyone was stunned , stabbed Atli in the thigh and kicked him out of the way. Now only Jon was in its way and it raised its sword—

And shrieked as a firebrand embedded itself in its face, setting its robes on fire. It screamed and began running—aimlessly, it appeared.

Jon flicked the Morgul-knife out of its hand and caught it. He flicked it in the air, catching it by the other end and threw it. It landed in the Cargul's back and it fell forwards. Again there was an outburst of wind.

Then, for several seconds, there was nothing.

* * *

_A/N: So? What do you think? I was going to fully relate Amdir's story as it appeared in the game (with him falling and all that) but I just couldn't make myself do it. But. His tale isn't over by a long shot and he is still wounded. I do have an idea where he can find a cure, however..._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Sorry I'm so late! I-have no excuses, really. Sorry. *leaves chapter and shrinks away*_

* * *

Amdir's world held its breath and he heard the sound of his own breathing. In, out—the world faltered, like a young fawn wobbling to its feet after falling. He heard flames crackling. Slowly the world began to move again and he heard running footsteps.

"Amdir! Amdir, are you all right?"

Toradan.

Amdir smiled. All was right with the world once again.

Only…

As he shifted to meet his brother the movement jarred his shoulder and he hissed at the pain of it.

"You're still wounded," Toradan muttered. "They're gone, but—"

Amdir heard Jon take a ragged breath and let it out in an anguished scream. "Father!"

Dale heaved himself upright and made his way to the hunter, murmuring words of inadequate comfort.

"We've got to get you to a healer," Toradan said. "But where—"

_In a cave, a Ranger stood in a shaft of sunlight. "Scholars are everywhere, if you only know how to find them."_

"Reniolind," Amdir breathed.

Toradan froze. "Yes, of course! He'd know—but where is he? Last I heard he was with Mundol studying the ruins of Ost Barandor."

Then they heard the sound of many, many wolves howling to the south. They turned instinctively towards it but could see nothing.

Amdir frowned. "The Wolf Den," he mumbled. "But who's there?"

"The what?" Toradan repeated.

"Wolf Den," Amdir said. "Small cave in the Chetwood, just beyond the Blackwold's roost there."

"Cave?" Toradan spun towards it. "That's how they got into Archet Dale," he realized.

"No, it's just a—"

Toradan gasped, interrupting his brother. "By the grace of the Valar…" he started running forward.

"What? What is it?" Amdir asked, struggling to see what had caused such a reaction in the older Ranger. He saw Toradan running towards a distant figure but couldn't make him out.

A strangled cry distracted him and he heard Atli howling in Dwarvish. _Bali is dead, _he thought. _Jon, _he remembered. The Captain. Dale was helping Jon to his feet, and Amdir caught a glimpse of the hunter's eyes as he noticed the fires and the chaos around them. They softened, he breathed in, they hardened, he stood tall, and set his shoulders back.

Archet was in good hands.

"Amdir!" a new voice called, but one he recognized. Could scarcely believe, but he did recognize it.

"Reniolind?" he asked in amazement.

The young scholar knelt beside him. He smelled of wolves and blood, and the familiar dusty scent of the scrolls he lived with. "Amdir, I know of someone who can heal you."

Amdir blinked. "You do?"

"Yes, but—" Reniolind glanced at Toradan. "Did the knife leave a splinter in his wound?"

"I don't believe so, though you could tell better than I. He is certainly much healthier than he would be if it had."

"Good," Reniolind breathed. "Very good." He checked Amdir's eyes. "Yes, there is much hope." He looked up. "The Blackwolds won't return for a long time, but the devastation they left behind—" His eyes were sad.

Jon's voice came from behind Amdir and he jumped, not having heard him. "It will take much to rebuild, yes. Are you a Ranger as well?"

"Yes."

"Can you help Amdir?"

Reniolind hesitated. "Not I—a healer I know of." He cocked his head, studying the hunter. "Do you know of the wisewoman near the Silverwell?"

Jon nodded.

"Silverwell," Amdir repeated to himself. The name was familiar…

"By the Yellow Tree, southwest of the Marshes," Reniolind clarified. "I met her as I was on my way to study the Marshwater Fort."

Jon crouched beside Amdir. "You must hurry, then. Amdir is a loyal friend, and if anyone can help him, she can."

"But Archet—" Amdir started.

"I will stay," Dale offered.

Toradan hesitated.

"Go with your brother," Jon said. "If you can, come back when you have finished. There is much to be done."

"Mundol could help," Reniolind said.

"No, he is needed in the Mustering Cave—our people are scattered and will most likely make their way there." Toradan sighed. "We have much to do as well. I would speak with Ar—Strider," he caught himself.

"After," Reniolind said, though he looked concerned. Amdir realized the young scholar probably didn't even know how they had fled from the Nazgul.

The two Rangers looked at Amdir. "A horse," Toradan decided.

* * *

Amdir held himself up as much as he could, but somehow his head kept bowing to meet the horse's mane. Toradan and Reniolind walked beside him, though he could barely recognize them, disguised as they were as refugees from Archet. "_We are, after all," _Toradan had said with a grin.

They left the long archway of trees and passed beside a small farm. A hobbit-house stood beside it. The farm looked ready for harvest, though bear tracks could be seen on the edge.

They didn't used to be so bold.

They passed another hobbit-house, nodded to the hobbit there, and continued down the hill.

Reniolind was excited. "It's just here," he whispered. "Nestled into the back of the hill."

He turned Amdir's horse and pointed. "See? You'd almost miss it, if you didn't know it was there."

Indeed. The Silverwell was a secluded spring, tucked into the hill, but so covered by trees and shrubs that you couldn't see it, even from the roads which ran right by it.

Amdir sat up straighter. His horse took a step forward and suddenly he could see a woman sitting by the spring. She wore a grey-blue dress and her hair seemed to be grey, though she did not look old. She looked up and smiled, rising gracefully. When she stood beside one of the bright green shrubs, her dress seemed greener instead of blue.

"What brings you here, Reniolind?" she asked. Her voice seemed young but old—wise, Amdir corrected himself. Wise. "Though I sense some evil with you." She looked at Amdir, eyes bright and knowing. "Perhaps with you?"

"Yes, Willowsong. My friend Amdir has been stung by a Morgul-blade."

Instantly the wisewoman was all business. "How long ago?" she started, and from there asked several questions of Toradan, and then Amdir. "How does it feel? When is it most cold?" She relaxed at the hearing of the Cargul's demise, though frowned at Toradan and Amdir suspected she'd be giving him something soon.

She sent Reniolind off to fetch an herb even Toradan hadn't heard of, Toradan to fetch one he had heard of, and drew a cup of water from her well. "Drink, young Ranger," she commanded, though her voice was soft and musical.

"Who are you?" Amdir wondered as he took the cup.

Willowsong only smiled.

The water was cool and refreshing, and clean.

Reniolind and Toradan returned with the herbs and she mixed them in with water from her spring and other herbs she kept there. She closed her eyes and breathed—in, out—and opened them. "Here," she said, and Amdir drank it.

He could _feel _it purge the poison out of his body.

Willowsong smiled again as Toradan and Reniolind embraced him joyfully.

* * *

Later, Amdir would remember that time as the darkest, but somehow also the lightest. He knew he had narrowly escaped a terrible fate, and only the presence of his brother and friends, old and new, had saved him.

* * *

_A/N: So, there it is. the last chapter. Bit quick, I guess, but at least Amdir isn't dead. So what did you think? Critiques are appreciated. Thank you to the few who actually read this! Seriously, thank you._


End file.
